


a good excuse to play forget

by mockturtletale



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Communication Failure, Guilt, Infidelity, M/M, Relationship Problems, and yet a lot of love, misguided as it may be, romantic anguish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-29
Updated: 2014-09-29
Packaged: 2018-02-19 06:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2379038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mockturtletale/pseuds/mockturtletale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan loves him so much that it’s always hurt a little bit, too much in different ways, sore and crushing in different measures at different times. This one isn’t new and it’s not just for now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a good excuse to play forget

**Author's Note:**

> This one is a whole bunch of firsts for me, because I was in a rut and needed to challenge myself to new things to get out. 
> 
> Story contains (largely for the first time, in anything I've ever written)  
> \- cheating.  
> \- a not completely happy ending.  
> \- scenes of a potentially difficult nature: one very brief mention of one character thinking that he doesn't care, in that moment, if he hurts the other. Scenes in which it's obvious to the reader if not all characters involved that one person is struggling with what's happening much more than he lets on, in an emotional sense. 
> 
> It's not especially miserable or an overly damning picture of a relationship, I don't think and I can't tell if that means I failed or not. 
> 
> It is very very short, which is the newest part of this experience for me. I wrote this entire thing in two hours this evening, which was incredibly strange and massively cathartic. 
> 
> Title from the Tinashe song 'Pretend', which inspired the theme and several specific plot points of this story.

It’s been years. It’s been _years_ and years and years and years; weeks spent seeing no one but one another, hours that felt like days spent apart, big thick sections of time that are marked off as ‘hockey’ or ‘no hockey’ overarchingly blacked out for them; together no matter what. 

They’ve been doing this for years, but it’s nothing close to perfect, maybe isn’t even good anymore, because when Taylor trails aimlessly up the stairs after him Jordan finds it easy to turn around and step right into his arms, to tug at the collar of Taylor’s button down and pout out his bottom lip and say, “Let’s do this like it’s the first time we ever have. Let’s pretend.” 

Taylor hesitates, but only barely. He looks down at Jordan like he has something else to say for all of a beat before he’s saying “Yes, sure, okay,” instead, walking Jordan backwards into their bedroom and starting in on his shirt buttons from the bottom up; his hands faltering when they meet Jordan’s halfway. 

“Like we don’t know each other at all,” Jordan elaborates, trying to remind Taylor without being scolding, without breaking whatever fragile kind of understanding they’ve found tonight, when Taylor waits for Jordan to take his own clothes off, knowing because he knows Jordan well that he’s particular about it, that it’s frustrating for him to wait patiently for someone else to do it for him. 

“Like we’re strangers?” Taylor asks with his fingers white knuckled around Jordan’s belt buckle, not gentle or careful about it when he pulls it through the loops of Jordan’s best jeans. 

Jordan doesn’t care. He hopes they rip and fray. Hopes, in that moment, for a completely different kind of destruction. Another one. 

“Like we just picked each other up in some bar for the first time? Went home together an hour after we met? Came here just to do this?” Taylor asks when he has Jordan naked and pushed up into the pillows on their bed. 

“Yeah,” Jordan tells him. Tells him. Does not ask, does not hope. They’re naked together and Jordan is breathless, but he won’t let the hitch he fights off be loud in his words, won’t let Taylor see how his hands shake, buries them in Taylor’s hair instead - takes a handful and holds on. Taylor doesn’t tell him if he’s hurting him and Jordan doesn’t care. 

“Yes,” Jordan allows himself to say when Taylor gets his fingers inside him, gets Jordan turned over onto his hands and knees with quick, rough hands and finally gets to the point. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous like this,” Taylor says with one hand on his own dick, the other still stretching Jordan wide around three fingers, his thumb rubbing up behind Jordan’s balls in a way that’s too gentle, too knowing, too familiar. 

Jordan knocks that hand away and reaches for a condom, not looking back to see if Taylor is surprised or disappointed or anything else at all. 

“C’mon, fuck me,” is all he says and it gets the job done, gets Taylor spurred on into action again, moving up over him and rolling the condom on without a word, silent as he pushes in but speaking again when he’s as far inside Jordan as he’s ever been, as far as he can get. 

Looming hot and big over Jordan’s back, his hands huge on Jordan’s hips and unfamiliar for a moment, for their purposeful lack of grace, clumsy and wanting - taking, Taylor talks. 

“Love you like this,” he tells Jordan, making Jordan close his eyes and turn his face away. “Love you so fucking impatient to have me.” 

Blocking out the words, Jordan moves with him, moves against him, takes exactly what he wants from Taylor because that’s what Taylor is giving him, tonight. 

Taylor fucks him hard, fucks him well and Jordan comes untouched because it’s a novelty - this game that Jordan didn’t intend to play, never wanted to have to resort to. 

It’s easy to pretend, it’s good to forget and for one night, for one blissful hour of just this, Jordan doesn’t have to think about whether he has Taylor, whether he ever really had him at all. 

Jordan closes his eyes and plays give and take with Taylor’s body like it’s brand new to him, like it’s nothing but a simple act of having wanted what he has right now, just for now. 

He doesn’t think about whether Taylor means it when he says that he loves him. 

Not tonight. 

Just for now. 

 

____

 

It’s almost three am and they have a non-optional skate to be at in five hours and Jordan is so sick of arguing, so sick of talking themselves around in circles that get them exactly nowhere, that he loses his patience completely, whatever fight he had left in him becoming a tired, cold kind of misinformed and malentendus bravery, or something like it. 

“I’m done with this conversation, Taylor. I’m done with this.” 

Taylor starts to protest, starts to goad Jordan into fighting with him some more for no reason whatsoever and Jordan won’t, he can’t. 

“I’m serious. No more talking about this, not tonight. Let’s just go to bed. We have to be up early.” 

It’s the right thing to say, probably the only thing Taylor would actually listen to, because the only thing he loves more than fighting with Jordan these days is hockey; has always been hockey. 

Jordan follows him up the stairs, follows him into their bedroom and slides into their bed next to him, thinks about what it would be like to sleep here alone. What it will be like, eventually. 

Recklessly, Jordan follows the very worst instinct that he finds in himself and turns to Taylor, rolls over until he’s looking right at him, at a surprised face that says Jordan mustn’t initiate eye contact much in this bed these days. 

“What would you do if this was it? If we broke up tonight and were just … done. For good.” 

Taylor’s eyes narrow and he starts to shake his head, starts to dismiss Jordan like he somehow has the right to. Like Jordan’s the one being ridiculous. Being difficult for no good reason. 

“Why would you even - what difference would - why would it be tonight? Why not a year ago? Why not fucking never, Jordan? Are you breaking up with me right now? Is that what you’re trying to say?” 

He knows that’s not what Jordan’s saying and he knows that Jordan knows he knows this. What he doesn’t know is how badly Jordan wishes, sometimes, that that was exactly what he was saying. Could say. 

“No. That’s not it. But what if it was? What if this was the last night we spent in this bed together?” 

Taylor shakes his head again and lifts his arms up over the covers, rolls up onto his side and tucks his face in next to Jordan, sharing his pillow without being invited to and throwing a strong arm around Jordan, muscling into his space and taking what he wants just like he always has, with Jordan. It used to be Jordan’s favourite thing about him.

“I’d sleep here just like this. Next to you and fucking happy about it, because I am. Because that’s how I fucking feel. I love you.” 

He says it like he could hurt Jordan with it and Jordan tries as usual to hold out hope that he doesn’t realize how much he can; how much he does. 

Jordan doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t move out from under Taylor’s hold. He lets himself pretend, again and for tonight at least, it’s good. 

They sleep together like they used to; curled up and comfortable, sleeping peacefully with their bodies overlapping, hands clasped and legs tangled. 

Jordan sleeps well and wakes up refreshed, one night of pretending that everything is okay not nearly enough to make the reality he faces the next day when he gets out of bed - when he walks into the locker room behind Taylor - easy, but easier, maybe. 

As close to almost bearable as Jordan has gotten, lately. 

 

____

 

Taylor throws it in his face the next chance he gets. Takes something else that Jordan has come to need and does his best to ruin that, too. 

“If you’re so worked up about this today, then why not play your new favourite game and pretend that you have the balls to actually break up with me, eh? If you think you’d be so much happier without me, then try it on for size.” 

Jordan isn’t stupid and he isn’t weak. He sees fear in Taylor’s eyes no matter how hard he tries to hide it, no matter how good he’s gotten at posturing. As well as Taylor knows Jordan, Jordan knows him even better. And that’s the problem. 

“No,” he says, knowing he doesn’t have to say anymore. Doesn’t have to explain it to Taylor. 

“Why not?” Taylor asks, voice getting quiet, low and close when he steps into Jordan’s space. Jordan won’t call him out on wanting to hear it again, won’t hold out on him on this one thing that’s still theirs and theirs alone. 

“Because I’m in love with you,” Jordan tells him, will keep telling him so long as it’s true. It feels like it’s been forever and Jordan wants it to stay that way. He’s under no illusions as to a fairytale future, knows that this is likely to only ever stay as bad or get worse, but even as it is, Jordan doesn’t want to leave. 

“I’m in love with you, too,” Taylor says, sounding miserable and Jordan can’t feel sorry for him. Can’t feel sorry for himself, either. 

“Even if we can’t fix this, I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you. I don’t know how. I don’t want to,” Jordan says, feeling like his heart is breaking all over again, because sometimes he brings himself to wish he could put a stop to all of this, just move the fuck on and find another way to be happy. But his favourite kind of happy is the one he has with Taylor. The one he still has, most days, for almost all of most days. They’re good together, they love each other. 

But. 

“So let’s try something else, since this clearly isn’t working. Let’s both play pretend, okay? Take your pick, Taylor. We can pretend that you’re not sleeping with someone else, or we can pretend that I don’t know you are. Which will it be?” 

Jordan is standing in Taylor’s arms with his nose deep in Taylor’s hoodie, the smell of him the best thing Jordan has ever known. He’s expecting it when Taylor flinches against him, but he doesn’t know how to talk about this without being sharp, without letting what he knows make him hard and cold. He doesn’t mean to hurt Taylor and he knows that in his heart of hearts, Taylor has never meant to hurt him, either. That’s why he’s still here. That’s why he can sleep at night. Most nights. 

“I love you. I’ve never not … I never stopped loving you. It’s not that. It will never be about that.” Taylor’s arms get tighter around Jordan’s shoulders and Jordan doesn’t know what hurts more; knowing that that’s true, or knowing that he’s not the only person that it’s true for. 

“You love him, too.” It’s the first time Jordan has said it, but he isn’t nervous, isn’t hopeful, isn’t sadder about it now than he was yesterday or the day before that. He’s numb, when he thinks about it. 

“Yeah,” Taylor admits, voice rough and the word catching. 

“It’s okay,” Jordan tells him, because somehow, aside from when it isn’t, it is. 

 

____

 

Jordan watches how Taylor is with Ryan when the three of them are together; on the ice or in the locker room or watching tape or waiting to get onto planes or pulling on their jerseys to make appearances. 

There’s an ease to how they interact that Jordan can bring himself to envy, when he’ll never be able to hate Ryan or Taylor for what they’ve done. What they’re still doing. 

They’re sweet to each other. They’re small smiles and bitten lips and supposed to be hidden touches that make them both light up, make them both brighter. They’re good for one another and Jordan feels his own loss keenly, but he still can’t begrudge them their clear happiness. They’re in love and Jordan knows what that’s like. 

He’s not naive. He’s never thought of infidelity as the worst kind of betrayal. He doesn’t mind that when Taylor isn’t at home with him, he’s no doubt at Ryan’s place, in Ryan’s bed. He isn’t jealous. He doesn’t think it’s possible for one person to be everything that another could ever want. He likes Ryan a lot. 

He hates that there’s nothing he can _do_ about this. He can’t accept that Taylor is going to need the two of them and that that’s the way it’s always going to be. He never thought that things would be the way they’d started for them forever, but he can’t stand the knowledge that it’ll never be like that again. He doesn’t know how to be okay with the fact that Taylor will never be only his ever again. 

He watches Taylor brush ice chips off of Ryan’s shoulder, not thinking twice before his hand drops further, stays low on the curve of his spine for a beat too long. He sees it like the moment is magnified when Ryan skates away from him, smiling long after he thinks no one can see. 

They’re in love and Jordan can’t hate them for that, because he is too.

Taylor dutifully follows him out to the car after practice, sits in the front seat next to Jordan with his hands in his lap and his gaze locked on something straight ahead. Nothing at all, probably. 

“Let’s pretend you’re here right now,” Jordan says when they get home, when he wants to pull Taylor down onto the couch, into his lap, when he wants to know that he still can. 

“Okay,” Taylor is agreeable, doesn’t protest that he actually is. 

 

____

 

“You’ve never asked me to stop,” Taylor says quietly one night, after he’s come home, after his shower, when Jordan has let him back into their bed like he always does. 

“Would you?” Jordan doesn’t have to ask, but asks anyway. 

“I couldn’t,” Taylor tells him honestly, because he’s never lied to Jordan about this, never lied to him at all, as far as Jordan knows and truly believes. 

“I don’t want to have to ask. I don’t … I love you and you love me, you love him too. I wish you didn’t, sometimes. But you do and asking you not to isn’t going to change anything.” 

Taylor crawls higher onto the bed, only settles when he has his head in Jordan’s lap and his fingers curled down over the muscle inside Jordan’s thigh, warm and every single kind of familiar. 

“I’d do anything for you,” Taylor says into the crease the hem of Jordan’s shorts have left imprinted on his skin. “I want you to be happy. I’d do anything to make you happy.” 

Jordan smiles and plucks at the neckline of Taylor’s shirt, thinks idly about what he’s going to do once he pulls it off. 

“Me too,” Jordan tells him.

Jordan loves him so much that it’s always hurt a little bit, too much in different ways, sore and crushing in different measures at different times. This one isn’t new and it’s not just for now. 

“I’d do anything to make you happy, too.” 

 

____  
____  
____

**Author's Note:**

> Not at all true, not being profited from in any way.


End file.
